August 16th, 2009

woods, Elizabeth, camera, April

Writer's Block: The Right to Privacy

Should some parts of celebrities' lives be off-limits to the public, or is giving up privacy a fair price for being famous?
Everybody needs some privacy.   Celebrities have a right to be human--and humans don't need to be squashed every second of every day.  Trespassing and obstructing should be illegal anywhere they're not, and the hordes of pushy, noisy "news media" should be run out of town.    And the rest of us need to mind our own business and not give a flip if some celebrity goes out without makeup,  gains 5, 10, whatever pounds,  has dinner with a friend, etc. So what?    Get a life.  Ignore them except on those occasions where they ARE showing off (the red carpet, if you care about that kind of thing.)  

If you have a prurient interest in someone else's private life--anyone's--ask yourself why your life is so boring that you have to know what someone else is wearing/doing/saying every minute of the day.   Then fix it, so you don't care any more if some screen star does or does not eat a doughnut.   Don't buy the magazines.  Don't watch the gossip shows.   Go to the celebrities' movies (if you want), or listen to their music (if you want), or go to the concerts (if you want) but have the grace to let them be off duty at least some of the time.  And off duty means off duty.  No pictures, no screaming fans, no requests for autographs...just let them be.  What they "owe" anyone else is their talent, used during their business hours.  Period.  

woods, Elizabeth, camera, April

Here Today, Gone Tomorrow

Literally.  I'm back from ArmadilloCon (a few hours ago--the laundry from that excursion has just been taken in from the clothesline smelling of very hot sunshine) and tomorrow morning I leave for South Carolina, to speak at Clemson University.

ArmadilloCon was fun as usual.   There was the crossbow (small, red, throws goldfish crackers a nice distance--also throws M&Ms but you don't want to use those in a room with a carpet in case someone steps on the ammo before you can retrieve it.)    There was the guy in the Clemson T-shirt who told me a few things about Clemson that might get the crowd on my side, maybe.  There were friends.  There were fellow writers (many of whom are friends.)  There was crawfish etouffee at Papadoux (or however you spell it--I am TIRED) that I coudln't finish.  I slept instead of eating supper between yesterday's afternoon panel and the 9 pm one I had to moderate.  The ConDFW party (small but select, and the mini-bow was a real hit--though I fear my eternal attempt to prove that I am sweet, gentle, and completely harmless may have been damaged by the crossbow...)  

Then I came home and had to do the laundry, hang it out, and start thinking what to stuff in the suitcase for tomorrow's trip.  Grump.  Hate, hate, hate, back-to-backs without even 24 hours between, but there was no alternative.